Virginia Lee Burton Speaks for the Trees

One of the things I love about Virginia Lee Burton's book The Little House is the dancing apple trees that surround it. Supporting a rope swing and, often, clambering children in their branches, the trees are an indicator of the health of the environment around the little house as the city springs up and the house declines. In its grimmest days, there are no trees at all.

At the end of the book, as the house settles into its new location, it's once again circled by Burton's graceful trees.

Trees are a recurring motif in Burton's other work, so as a way of highlighting a part of nature she clearly loved, as well as her artistic achievements, I thought I would showcase a few of her trees.

These four were done for a Horn Book calendar in 1965, a few years before her death. (Scans from Barbara Elleman's Virginia Lee Burton: A Life in Art.)


February


April


June


November

The Song of Robin Hood (1947), edited by Anne Malcolmson with illustrations by Burton, is almost overwhelming in its visual complexity. It's a book you could return to over and over again, finding new things to look at each time.

The scratch board illustrations were reproduced in only black ink, and vary from tiny, detailed scenes that accompany capital letters to full-page renderings of Robin Hood in his various exploits. In many ways, the book is reminiscent of William Morris's work, clearly emphasizing Burton's felt connection to the Arts and Crafts movement.

And given that the story takes place in Sherwood Forest, there are trees everywhere.


An oak from Robin Hood and the Stranger.


Robin Hood and Maid Marian under a willow.


A stylized, multi-layered tree, with an amazing reflection from Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar.


A conifer from Robin Hood's Death.


Probably my favorite. From Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires.

Finally, a scratch board illustration of the Swing Tree from Virginia Lee Burton's home in Folly Cove, Gloucester, Massachusetts. According to Elleman, this tree "appeared in various forms throughout her work." (Reproduced from Elleman's book, where it appeared courtesy of the Cape Ann Historical Association.)



Part 3 of Virginia Lee Burton week on Daughter Number Three.

Loving The Little House

Sixty-seven years before the movie Up introduced us to a stubborn old man who refuses to sell out to make way for development...

Decades before the term "nail house" came into use to describe people who stay in their homes, surrounded by construction cranes…

There was Virginia Lee Burton's The Little House.

One of the best-designed picture books ever created, The Little House tells the story of a place that changed over time. Its lyrical layouts and rhythmic illustrations won Burton the Caldecott Medal, and keep her book popular with children to this day.

The house, which was built on a green knoll with dancing apple trees around it, watches as its world is transformed. Road builders come through, and other houses spring up, then multi-story apartment buildings, until the house is surrounded by dark, towering behemoths and hidden beneath an elevated train.


Finally, the house is rediscovered by a descendant of the people who built it, and moved farther out into the countryside, where it lives happily ever after.


I've always loved this book, and couldn't help thinking of it when I saw Up. In honor of Up, a website called DeputyDog did a wonderful write-up on famous nail houses, but made no mention of The Little House.

As part of Virginia Lee Burton week, I found my copy of Barbara Elleman's Virginia Lee Burton: A Life in Art. Elleman's book is a wonderful compilation of little-seen Burton artwork, not just from her published books, but also from her fabric printing and other artistic pursuits.

In it, I rediscovered this sketch of Burton's from the time when she first thought of doing a story about a little pink house:


And another fascinating piece, a series of thumbnail sketches. According to Elleman, Burton used the sketches to demonstrate "for her design classes how placement on the page, changes in line, and variances in black and white could alter the look of an image" (page 36).


Seeing the painted sketch and this series of thumbnails, I appreciated even more than I already had how much thought and decision-making went into creating The Little House exactly as it is. When a book is beautiful, it's easy to think it had to be the way it is, and forget how much work and visual thinking must have gone into making it just that way, and no other.

Part 2 of Virginia Lee Burton week on Daughter Number Three.

Finding Virginia Lee Burton's Work

Wrapping up Virginia Lee Burton week, I thought I would list the locations of all of VLB's original manuscripts and artwork, in case you want to check them out in person some day:

• Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel plus the lesser-known books Calico the Wonder Horse, Choo Choo, The Emperor's New Clothes and The Fast Sooner Hound, all at the University of Oregon
• Maybelle the Cable Car at the San Francisco Public Library
• The Little House at the University of Minnesota's wonderful Kerlan Collection
• Life Story, her last book, at the Free Library of Philadelphia
• Song of Robin Hood at the Boston Public Library
• Katy and the Big Snow at the Sawyer Free Library in Gloucester, Mass.
• Drafts from her various works and Folly Cove designs at the Cape Ann Historical Association in Gloucester
  

And a special note -- this year is the 100th anniversary of Burton's birth, and the Cape Ann Historical Society is sponsoring a Virginia Lee Burton Birthday Party on Saturday, August 29 from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Throughout the month, they'll be highlighting her lesser known books, with access to art and artifacts from the Museum's collection related to each story.

• August 4 Choo Choo (1937)
• August 6 Calico (1941)
• August 11 Robin Hood (1947)
• August 13 Emperor’s New Clothes (1949)
• August 18 Maybelle the Cable Car (1952)
• August 20 Life Story (1962)

Oh, I wish I could be there for the whole month.

Part 4 of Virginia Lee Burton week on Daughter Number Three.

Putting Mike and Mary Ann in Their Place

In his regular Sunday Brunch feature, Peter Sieruta over at Collecting Children's Books marked the passing of one of the most famous footnotes in children's literature, Dickie Berkenbush.


Remember how Mike Mulligan and his steam shovel, Mary Ann, dug the basement for the new town hall all in one day? But when they were done, they were down in the bottom and didn't have way to get out... until a little boy who had been watching suggested that they turn Mary Ann into the furnace for the new town hall.


And there was an asterisk -- of all things -- right smack dab in the middle of the page, crediting somebody named Dickie Birkenbush (sic) with the idea.

I don't know about you, but I always thought that asterisk was pretty odd, and wondered who the heck Dickie was and how he came to be giving Virginia Lee Burton ideas.

As Peter tells it,

Ms. Burton read her manuscript to a group of children and young Dickie Berkenbush suggested that Mary Ann could remain in the town hall basement as a furnace. Years later, Mr. Berkenbush recalled how he came up with the idea: “My father had a garage in town that had a steam heating system, so I was familiar with it.”

Dickie (Richard) Berkenbush worked as a fire fighter, fire chief and police chief for many decades in West Newbury, Massachusetts. He died in March of this year at age 84. (See the full obituary from the Boston Globe.)

Here he is with his wife, Susan, showing Mike and Mary Ann as they realized their predicament. (Photo by Mike Wilson, Boston Globe.)


Thanks to Peter for writing about Richard Berkenbush. It sounds like the Mike Mulligan asterisk was only the first of many accomplishments in his life.

Part 1 of Virginia Lee Burton week on Daughter Number Three.

Mary Singleton

Wisconsin is a land of folk art. While traveling through recently, I saw some of the work of Mary Singleton, an Americana painter.


While I can see that Singleton's concepts may be based in a reactionary romanticism, I like the paintings anyway. 










The resemblance to Virginia Lee Burton's work, especially in The Little House, probably explains my interest in this work, though of course Burton's composition and drawing ability shine through.

I can't find any information on Mary Singleton, though the person at the shop in Mauston where I saw these told me she lives in Camp Douglas and is a well-known artist, featured in a particular folk art calendar each year. I can find lots of places where that calendar is for sale, but no one discussing her work and no bio for her.

It's kind of weird, in fact. But, oh, well. Maybe this is a start.

The Earth Changes

Here's a find from Second Editions Books in Butte, Montana (recommended the next time you're in Butte!): The Earth Changes by Jannette May Lucas with art by Helene Carter.

Lucas's text is fine for the 1937 publication date, but it's the art that makes the book memorable. Starting with the cover...


...and continuing to the dynamic end papers. (Click any of the images to enlarge, but this one is particularly worth it):


The title page, like all of the display text, is completely hand-lettered, with the green second ink color creating a pattern of early life forms:


Each era has a map of the continents showing their current outline, compared with what the land and water were like then:


Spot illustrations are used throughout, usually in one or two colors:






(Yes, there were dragon flies with a wing spread of twenty inches.)

Not to mention the initial capital letters, some in black-only like this one, some in two colors:


Helene Carter was a Canadian artist and illustrator, born in 1887, who worked in advertising in New York City in the 1920s. While there, she got to know the naturalist and herpetologist Raymond Ditmars and came to love natural history. From the mid-1930s on, she illustrated a number of nonfiction children's books on topics like insects, prehistoric animals, plants, and flowers.

Her work in The Earth Changes reminds me of Virginia Lee Burton's art, and especially her book Life Story, which came out about 10 years later. I wonder if they knew each other?

Carter's original art and papers (except The Earth Changes, unfortunately) are collected at the University of Minnesota's Kerlan Collection. I especially want to check out Where Does Your Garden Grow? and The Gulf Stream.

Signs in Spring

It has been another day on the road with unfamiliar surroundings, noticing things. First, a bunch of photos from Port Angeles, Washington.


I loved this sign because the business owner probably thinks the name is clever, when it's just as easy to understand it as insulting to all the posers doing yoga because they think they should be.


A new addition for my collection of "no solicitor" signs.


A happy piece of metal.


An interesting set of bumper stickers. Don't miss the one in the bottom row, second from right.


I think I saw the current version of Virginia Lee Burton's Little House.


This last sign is from Victoria, capital of British Columbia. Things are different in Canada.

Five from the Kerlan Collection

I spent a short while a few days ago perusing the exhibit The ABC of It: Why Children's Books Matter at the Andersen Library on the University of Minnesota campus. Mostly it reminded me of all the amazing materials available at the Kerlan Collection, just a few miles from my house, that I will never see. But because of the exhibit, they had a few gems on display.


I never heard of Wanda Gág or her book Millions of Cats until I moved to Minnesota, but unlike many other Minnesota-centric cultural items, this one is worth the adoration. Shown here is Gág's watercolor sketch for the cover (the final art is viewable here). I also was drawn to the ink drawing of a tiny kitty sleeping under the plant.


I'm not sure I knew the Kerlan Collection had anything from Virginia Lee Burton, who I've written about quite a lot in the past. I'm especially fond of her book The Little House, from which they have these watercolor and gouache paintings.


Nine Days to Christmas holds a special place in my childhood. I never saw it in a library or had a copy at home; instead, I read it only when I went to the dentist my family visited until I was about 10 years old. I never new what its name was until I saw it on a list of Caldecott Medal-winners some time after I was an adult. (I learned what a piñata is from this book.)


I loved Garth Williams' illustrations in other books (especially The Whispering Rabbit and Other Stories), but I never heard of the Little Fur Family until Daughter Number Three-Point-One was little and we were given a copy as a gift. This is a first edition with a rabbit fur cover, signed on the title page by both Williams and Margaret Wise Brown, the author.


Vera B. Williams' A Chair for My Mother, published in 1982, was a favorite book when DN3.1 was in elementary school. It was lovely to see this bright watercolor and have it bring back the times we would sit with the story at bed time.

Finally Appreciating Leo and Diane Dillon

At various times, I've written about the illustrators of children's and young adult or chapter book covers that I love (such as Trina Schart Hyman, Richard Cuffari, Emanuel Schongut, Alan Cober, Virginia Lee Burton, or Ellen Raskin). One influential pair of illustrators I've long known about but never loved quite as much was Leo and Diane Dillon.

It's not that I didn't like their work, but it was almost too ubiquitous from the 1970s on, and some of it I found a bit mushy, maybe too airbrushed for my taste. A lot of it is beautiful, though, and now (searching around as I started to write this post) I found that some of their work I didn't even realize was theirs.

I got started on this because Cory Doctorow tweeted this startling piece of theirs from 1970:

It was used on this cover:

Here are some other cover illustrations from that same early-1970s era, which are not very similar to the works they are mostly known for in the children's book world:

I mostly knew about them back in the 1970s because of their woodcut illustrations on these covers for books by Erik Christian Haugaard:

1963

1965

1968 (I may never forgive the designer of Rider for those typeface and color choices.) 

1971

This cover for a John Christopher novel published in 1963, which I don't think I've ever heard of before, looks like a cross between these two styles: 

It's not a woodcut, though you can see elements of woodcut style in the rendering, but it also shows the beginnings of the expressionist psychedelia so clearly shown in the 1970ish science fiction covers.

Something else I learned today (or had forgotten) was that the Dillons did this original hardcover illustration for Madeleine L'Engle's A Swiftly Tilting Planet, and also did illustrations for reissues of A Wrinkle in Time and A Wind in the Door that were published at the same time. (Illustrator trivia: Richard Cuffari did the original cover of Wind, and Ellen Raskin did the original Wrinkle cover.)

I also learned that the Dillons did an Ace paperback cover for Ursula LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea that I've never seen before:

Pretty cool.